Think Twice
by Ivoryyy
Summary: Set four years in the future. The Gallagher girls and Blackthorne boys have graduated, and most have pursued a life in crime-fighting. Cammie and Zach struggle with their bumpy relationship, but how do they manage when one of their own goes missing? Everything you think you know will be proven wrong. You can't be the smartest one in the room when someone is always one step ahead.
1. Prologue

_Prologue - several months later_

I stood on the top of the roof building, staring out at the fog rolling across the city. It was a quiet day. The cars were parked, the rare one passing through the street. The town was small, not exactly a tourist destination. It was a sleepy town. Nothing and no one was out, all was peaceful. Too peaceful.

The wind whipped my hair into my face, but I didn't bother brushing it away. I felt numb. Like every emotion I had was running at overdrive, so my body had decided to dull it all out. I felt nothing, yet I felt everything. It was a weird phenomenon that I wasn't in the mood to understand.

The door to the roof opened. I knew who it was. Only one person would come up here.

"Cammie?" The hesitant voice approached me with that familiar, thick British accent. It was laced with worry, and uncertainty. It had been a while since we'd seen eachother. Hearing her voice on the phone last night was like speaking to a stranger from a distant past. So much had changed. The familiarity was almost too painful to bear. And yet, she was still here. Through the thick and thin, we always stuck together.

I finally faced her, and my face crumpled. Bex rushed over to me, abandoning all formalities, and threw her arms around me. I burst into tears, hardly the image of a twenty one year old woman who was meant to have her whole life together. But I couldn't keep anything together. Not anymore.

"Cammie, what happened?" She asked breathlessly, her hand going in soothing circles around my back. There were no questions about where I'd been, why I'd left, what I'd been up to. And I was so grateful for that, because right then, the last thing I wanted to do was recount the events that had led to this moment. The events that had left me devoid of just about everything. What had mattered most had been cruelly snatched away, and there was nothing I regretted more than leaving.

"Zach." I sputtered, my voice cracking on his name. "He's dead."

* * *

**Woohoo! A cliffy! To all my old readers, I am overjoyed to finally be back and writing again. To all my new readers, hey there! I'm thrilled that you decided to check out my story. **

**The chapters will get longer, I promise, this was simply to grab your attention. Interested yet? There's a lot of unexpected drama to come, so you're in for a treat.**

**Buckle up, my sweethearts, you're in for a bumpy ride.**

**-_Ivoryyy._**


	2. Chapter 1

**I just wanted to clear some things up before continuing with this story. There are some things I will be omitting, like the Circle of Cavan. I may mention them, but they won't play a huge role in this story. I've taken the characters and their basic stories, but not everything in detail. Yes, they went to Gallagher and Blackthorne, yes, they had relationships, yada yada yada. But the focus is on the future. The past exists, but it does not influence the future so strongly. Not in this story, anyway.**

**Okay, that's all. Enjoy!**

* * *

_Present day_

Who knew that after graduating from the Gallagher Academy Cameron Morgan would end up working for the Federal Bureau of Investigation, fighting the baddies of the world? Some days I'm not very surprised with my choice, after the life we all had, after being raised as a spy, pursuing a normal career in the normal world didn't seem right. Yeah, I missed the person I could never be, a proper human being with petty problems, but now I was putting my skills to actual good use. Most days I thought my decision had been inevitable from the very beginning.

Now at twenty one years old, I woke up just seconds before my alarm went off and pulled on our matching FBI clothing after brushing my teeth and hair. Grant, Bex, Zach, Liz, and I all had chosen the same place; whereas Macey and Jonas (to Liz's great disappointment) pursued a career in the CIA.

"Bloody hell, that thing is irritating." Bex grumbled as she got out of bed, referring to the alarm clock. It did make an annoying, shrill sound, but it did it's job. We roomed together on the base, which was nice because it meant I knew somebody and didn't have to learn all their quirks from scratch. Yeah, in our time here we had met new people, but we Blackthorne and Gallagher students tended to stick together since we had an overlapping history. Zach and I hadn't stop seeing eachother after leaving school, and it was amazing not having to try to figure out our lives around eachother's opposing schedules. Now we could finally focus on eachother. But being at the FBI put a damper on our relationship sometimes. Working here was meant to train you to put your duty first, feelings second. I still had yet to suppress the art of not caring. It was something that could get you killed in a moment of life or death. One second's hesitation and you could be dead.

Once Bex was ready, we headed for Liz's room. She was prepared as ever, a book in hand when we knocked on the door. The base's dorms were split into female and male, so we always met the boys at breakfast. Some days, Grant or Zach snuck into the female's dorm to wake us. Well, they didn't have to sneak in, everything was up to us now. No one would chase us down if we broke the rules. It was only if we broke the really big ones that we'd get into trouble. There had been a couple incidents when I'd been called in by Special Agent Jacob Lee; some had nearly resulted in my expulsion.

We sat down at a table where the guys already were and Zach planted a gentle kiss on my cheek before placing a chocolate muffin on my tray. "Morning. They ran out, so I grabbed you the last one."

"You are amazing." I said with a wide grin, biting into the muffin. These muffins were what I lived for in the morning, somehow they always made things better. And Zach did, of course.

"How's she doing?" Zach asked quietly, flicking his eyes in Liz's direction. Last week had been Liz's anniversary with Jonas, so she'd left for a night to celebrate with him. Ever since, it had been hard for her to adjust to being without him again. Every time they saw eachother, she was a mess for the following few days. Naturally, she did her best not to show it, but there were occasions she was too quiet, or we caught her with red eyes from crying.

"She's… Coping." I replied with a sigh. "You know how she gets. She misses him, it's not easy that he's somewhere completely different." I was so unbelievably glad that Zach and I had managed to stay together. I would probably be coping the same way as Liz, but possibly with more tears and more pity parties. She knew how to hold things together better than most of us.

Zach took my hand across the table, rubbing the back of it with his thumb as he spooned cereal into his mouth. "I still have trouble gauging that he decided to go a different direction. Grant, Jonas, and I have always been a team, you know?"

"Yeah." I frowned, taking another bite of the muffin. "Like Macey and us. It was a shock when she told us. But I guess that's what the real world brings. Nothing is set in stone. Everything you think you know is proven wrong."

We finished breakfast quickly and headed to our first exercise of the day. Once we reached the wide room and settled inside, we were told what would happen. Handwriting analysis.

Special Agent Henderson Leroy stood at the front of the room. Everybody was silent already. There was no time for mucking around. Not here. "You should all have read the section on handwriting analysis in your textbooks last night." He said, his hands clasped behind his back. He was quite young, but not as young as us. He was somebody you didn't want to mess with. You did your job, and you did it right. That's how it was with a lot of the agents here. They didn't joke around. Sometimes I wondered if they ever let themselves relax. "I want you all to write 'The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog' as naturally as possible. Handwriting analyses are not entirely accurate, as interpretations are subjective, therefore profiling should not be completely based on this practice. It may supplement, but never act as a foundation of a profile."

We all wrote down the sentence and got into groups to analyze eachother's.

"Your o's are very wide and open," Grant observed on Liz's sheet. "That's frankness. You're candid and unreserved."

Bex stepped in too. "Your handwriting is small in comparison to the lines on the page. That signifies shyness."

Liz blushed. So far so good.

"Let's see yours, missy." Grant took Bex's paper and scanned it. "Very slanted to the right. Hm…"

"You're eager to engage. Impatient." I came to his aid with a teasing grin in Bex's direction. She stuck out her tongue, but didn't argue. She was the life of the party when it came to us, always the one to be taking the risks. I looked at Zach's. It was in cursive. His handwriting was always so beautiful to me, reading anything he wrote was interesting, even if it was a grocery list.

"Your l's are really closed up," Liz started. She didn't sound too confident. Not because of a lack of material, she was the smartest out of us all, more like she didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings by her observations. "You're restricted, you don't let just anyone in."

Zach's demeanour didn't change. He tried so hard to remain composed around us. I rarely ever witnessed him lose it.

"The crosses through your t's are sharp. Angry. They start off fine, like you're holding back." Bex added.

"That last curve of the g in 'dog' is the same. Really sharp ending. Angry. Yet reserved." Grant said, supporting Bex's statement. "You okay, mate?" He chuckled.

"And the pressure you put on the writing-" Liz began.

"Let's switch to someone else." Zach interrupted firmly. I could tell he was trying so hard not to sound annoyed that everyone was probing his inner sentiments. I took his hand under the table and squeezed it lightly. He shot me an appreciative look, taking a deep breath to relax.

I offered my writing to provide a distraction. "Go ahead. I'm an open book."

"Well, your e's may suggest otherwise." Liz said.

The rest of the time, we switched groups, looking at a wide range of writing styles. Agent Leroy hovered by each table one at a time to listen in on the conversations. He didn't butt in though. It was his job to observe. And as he had said, this was subjective. His interpretations could be just as wrong as ours. We all knew that the agents submitted reports at the end of whatever they were instructing, so we tried to be on our best behaviour. If someone stirred things up, it would be noted immediately.

Afterwards, we headed to the terrain where we did physical training. Sergeant Moreno ordered us to cross the first track in front of us, then do a five-mile run until we reached the shooting range. At arrival, I had assumed crossing a track meant the same thing as running. It was. Only with obstacles. It was a laborious task, and having a five-mile run afterwards was hell. But we did it without complaint.

Bex and Grant tore off, keen on getting to the shooting range first. Liz ran off alone, always independent in these activities. She liked to keep her head clear and focused. We learned to give her space. Zach smirked at me, his green eyes glinting. "Race you there, Gallagher Girl."

I returned his smirk. "May the best man or woman win."

And so we sprinted through the rough terrain, always on eachother's tail. There were moments he was ahead, but others when I overtook him and sped past him. Relationship or not, we were competitive. Neither of us liked losing. I kept my eyes constantly in front of me, watching for when our paths changed rapidly. One mistake and you could land on your face. Coming last was something we all avoided. Those who proved to be unable to perform the task to an acceptable ability were expelled. If you weren't FBI material, you were out. No second chances.

I panted, a sweaty mess after several minutes. I could hear Zach behind me struggling to maintain a normal breathing pattern. We had passed Bex and Grant, and were now in the lead. When we raced, we raced hard. Go big or go home. "Getting tired there, Blackthorne Boy?" I teased breathlessly.

"Not a bit." He answered. The gasping told me otherwise. Even the Gallagher Academy and Blackthorne Institute couldn't have prepared us for this.

By the time we arrived, we were completely winded. At the range was a cart of water bottles. Zach and I drained a full bottle each. Through my breathlessness, I grinned at him triumphantly. "I guess that makes me the best."

"This time." He said with a wink, taking another gulp from a second bottle.

We didn't wait for everyone to arrive. Those who were present began shooting. The sergeant watched over us, but we'd gotten into the knack of the routine by now that he didn't need to tell us what to do. Not unless he wanted to change things up. Thankfully today was not a day for new challenges.

I picked up a gun, noticing Liz rubbing her temples off to the side. I frowned and approached her. "Liz? You alright?"

She dropped her hands and sighed with a shrug. "Migraine. It started off as a mild headache this morning, but it's throbbing now."

I examined her in worry. She didn't look her best. "You can excuse yourse-"

She shook her head before I could even finish. "I'll get through this. This is the last thing we need to do, then I'll rest once we return to the dorms." A tight smile spread on her lips. "Don't worry."

Liz shot the poorest out of everybody on that day. Even Jackson Roberts, a guy who was just barely scraping by at the shooting range was a better shot. His inability to handle firearms were forgiven by his insane computer genius. He could hack codes faster than everybody. Well, nearly everybody.

We headed back to the dorms to get washed up and rested before dinner once the exercise was over. By the end, every one of us was exhausted. After an hour of lazing about in the room (not really lazing about, Bex and I read our textbooks to prepare for the next day) we were out to eat. My stomach grumbled from the lack of lunch. It was only five o'clock, but none of us could handle it anymore. We'd gotten snacks from the vending machine, but junk wasn't enough. We needed real food or we'd collapse.

Bex knocked on Liz's door. We got a moan in response. "Liz? You coming?"

She moaned again.

I shook my head. "She wasn't feeling well earlier. Let her stay in bed. She needs it." If Liz needed rest, none of us bothered her. Usually it was difficult for us to get her to stop thinking, to just breathe, so when the opportunity presented itself that she was tired, we backed off.

Bex, Grant, Zach, and I ate in the canteen. We only ever really went out to eat when he had the energy to (which was practically never) or the canteen was closed (which was also practically never). The food was good, so it wasn't a problem. They wanted us to be fit, not torture us.

"We should go on a double date sometime." Bex proposed as she munched on a cucumber from her salad. "I heard there's a movie theatre somewhere that we could go to."

"Where'd you hear this from?" I asked, popping one of her cherry tomatoes in my mouth. Hardly anything was nearby the base. At least, entertainment-wise nothing was nearby. Markets and stuff, sure.

"Summer Davis told me. She went with Carly a couple weeks ago to see a film. But she did mention it was a long drive… Around an hour's worth." She scrunched her nose. "Forget it. As much as I adore you all to bits, an hour drive to see a film doesn't seem worth it."

"When is the last time we actually went out to do something fun?" Grant said.

We all lapsed into silence. Time wasn't a luxury around here. Slacking off was frowned upon. "Before we joined the FBI." Zach was the one to voice what we were all thinking. It was like we had abandoned one hectic life for another. But with sacrifices came rewards.

The rest of dinner passed in conversation and laughter. The whole canteen was lively, despite everyone's fatigue. It was a chance to catch up and talk to people we hadn't spoken to during the day. We could banter about pointless things without getting scolded.

Bex and Grant went to take a walk (and probably make out somewhere), but Zach walked me back to my room because I couldn't think straight anymore. Sleep, I needed sleep.

I pecked his lips lightly and opened the door, but he wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me back. "You call that a kiss?" He chided, clicking his tongue, before drawing me in for a longer kiss. Moments like these I forgot where I was, everything just melted away into a dull buzz, and all I could feel was his lips on mine.

But then he pulled back with that familiar lopsided grin that I loved so much and bowed lightly. "Sweet dreams, m'lady."

I laughed gently. "Good night."

* * *

"Cammie."

I shifted in bed, complaining that it wasn't time to get up yet. The alarm hadn't gone off, consciousness was unwelcome.

"_Cammie._"

I groaned and opened my eyes. Jesus, it wasn't even light in the window yet. What time was it? I looked at the clock. 1:16AM. "What's going on?" Bex was still in her clothes, and Grant was standing in the doorway, a worried expression on his face. They had evidently just returned. But why did they look so panicked?

"Liz. Liz is missing."

I shot out of bed. They took me to her room, which was already open. Bex explained that she'd found it this way. Somebody had broken in. My eyes took in the scene, heart pounding in my chest. The room was a mess. Everything was strewn about, as though some sort of fight had happened. Then I noticed the blood. "Oh my god." I whispered. My mind assumed the worst of things, even as I urged myself to think positively. She was okay, she had to be. This had to be some sort of misunderstanding.

But that was all a lie. Liz was weak. She wasn't at her best potential. Anything could have happened. Who could have done this to her? Where was she now?

Special Agent Lee arrived. He was of Japanese descent, but had lived in America for twenty years. He wasn't somebody you wanted to get on the bad side of. Zach followed, presumably he'd been alerted by Grant. Soon everybody would know about what happened. That one of their own was missing.

"You found the room like this?" Sanders demanded to Bex. She nodded quickly.

I stepped back, Zach pulled me to him protectively, taking in the sight. Suddenly, I didn't feel tired anymore. This was what we had been preparing for. This was the real thing. Someone had gone missing. _Liz _had gone missing. Everything was about to unravel.

* * *

**There's your first chapter! Thoughts? Do you like it so far? Please review if you have anything you'd like to share, I love reading everything you guys have to say! **

**-_Ivoryyy._**


	3. Chapter 2

It had been three days since Liz's disappearance, and no new information had been discovered. To say I was worried would be a massive understatement. We didn't even know if she was alive.

I sat at breakfast alone chewing on my lip, blankly staring at my food. It was early. Earlier than we all usually met up. Insomnia had become a friend to me over the last few nights. All I could see was the blood in her room and envision the many situations she could be in now. A certain amount of time had to pass before the FBI declared one of their own as presumably dead. I couldn't accept it, not yet. We didn't have enough evidence to prove she was. Nor did we have enough to prove she was. I was hoping we found her before they had to deem her as deceased. If we found her alive.

I closed my eyes, holding my forehead in my palm. Who would have kidnapped her? Why? There were a million reasons why, but which one was right?

"Cammie?" A voice brought me out of my reverie. I blinked and looked up at Zach, who was sitting across from me, a worried expression on his face. His hair was still damp from a shower.

I strained a smile. "Hey."

"Did you sleep at all?"

I yawned and shook my head, taking a sip of the coffee sitting on my tray. It had gone cold. But it was energy nonetheless, so it was gratefully accepted by my system. "If half an hour's worth of nightmares counts, sure." Bex took sleeping pills before heading to bed now, that was the only way she was coping. And she was stronger than me; that's what I believed, anyway. I hadn't told her I couldn't sleep anymore, otherwise she would worry and stay up with me. I couldn't allow her to sacrifice anything just so I'd be alright. Liz was our main concern here, not me.

Zach, though, was a different story. If I tried hiding it from him, he'd know.

"Cammie…" He began. But none of us knew what to say as comfort anymore. We couldn't know for sure that Liz was safe. Any comfort could be a lie for all we knew, and none of us wanted to swallow a lie, to be ignorant to the truth.

"I just need to know something. Anything. I need to know they're not just sitting on their asses waiting for her to come back." I said irritably. News of Liz's disappearance had spread like wildfire, but news of the FBI doing anything about it hadn't. I respected our authorities, I did, but I felt useless idly sitting by, waiting for news. "You know what, I'm going to ask them." I stood up.

Zach's eyes widened slightly. "Wait, what? What are you doing?"

"I'm going to get some answers." I replied. "I'll catch up with you later."

* * *

"Agent Morgan, this is not your case." Special Agent Sanders said agitatedly for the third time since I'd arrived at his office. Special Agent Melissa Bishop stood behind him, her cropped brown hair framing her friendly face. If this were a game of good cop, bad cop, she would be the good cop hands down. And Sanders would be the brutally nasty cop. She was my saving grace when it came to keeping me here in the FBI. There had been times when it had been questioned whether I was worth keeping around here anymore, and she'd always swooped in to aid me. I was forever in her debt. "We already have a highly skilled agent working on finding Agent Sutton."

"Who?" I demanded. It wasn't my place to ask, but I was too tired to care. This was my _best friend._ They couldn't deny me this case. I knew her better than everybody on this base (excluding Bex), anyone else would be incompetent. They needed me to find her. Anybody else would simply screw up and lose her with each passing second. If we hadn't already lost her.

Sanders raised an eyebrow, querying whether I actually expected him to give me an answer. Bishop pressed her lips together, casting me a cautioning look. She would help me, but to an extent. Being a bitch wasn't behaviour she would defend. It was my choice to be irrational. Sanders leaned forward in his chair, settling his elbows on the table before him. I stood in front of him, unable to settle down. If I sat down, I would end up tapping my foot incessantly. I needed to look firm. "Agent Morgan, you are not going to be placed on the case and that's final. Dismissed."

As much as I wanted to argue, I knew it would get me into trouble. So I left. But I wasn't about to give up. If he wouldn't allow me answers, I would retrieve them myself.

* * *

Nearly two hours later, I arrived at Liz's parents' home. The family had moved closer to their daughter after she was recruited by the FBI, in hopes of being able to see her from time to time. Of course, time wasn't a luxury for us, so this plan hadn't worked out quite well. But I assumed it felt nice knowing you had family nearby.

"Has Liz contacted either of you recently?" I asked them. They looked distraught and tired. The FBI had told them the news about Liz, and judging by their appearances, they hadn't been coping well. But they couldn't do anything. They were relying on us, the best of the best, to find her for them.

"We've already spoken to that other agent who came by yesterday. We said all we knew." Liz's mother frowned, clutching her husband's arm. We were sitting in their quaint living room, facing opposite one another on the couches. I hadn't been to this house in ages; and now it felt so different without my best friend laughing and talking in the background. It was like a completely different home.

I hadn't let them know I was flying solo. I wasn't entirely sure if I was here as an agent or a friend. If I were here as a friend, I would have probably started crying a while ago already. "We like to double check, see if there's been any progress in cases. And…" I looked at my hands in my laps. "I'm asking for myself too. I just need to hear it with my own ears, you know?" My gaze met theirs again. Bingo. Those were the right words to open them up. Their demeanour became sympathetic, all uncertainty vanishing.

"We haven't heard anything from her since she disappeared. She called us the night before, already planning vacation. It's just not right. Who would do this to her? Why?" Her mother's eyes brimmed with tears, her voice cracking at the end. Her husband took over.

"Has it been determined what happened yet?" He asked me, just as desperate for answers as I was. "Did someone take her? Is she… Alive? The man who came by yesterday wouldn't divulge anything, but we were hoping you'd be able to help us more since you're so close to our Lizzy."

Shit. How much was I allowed to say? Common sense urged me to keep my mouth shut. But pity urged me to give them a story, something that would ease their pain even slightly. "Judging by the scene at the base, there was a break in and she was kidnapped. However, there wasn't enough blood to suggest she was fatally injured." At least she wasn't fatally injured on the base. There was always the chance her kidnapper had done all sorts of atrocities to her once he'd gotten her far enough.

"Blood?!" Her mother squeaked. "Are you sure it's hers? Not her attacker's?"

I cringed inwardly. Maybe I'd said too much. I didn't know anything about the blood. Confidential information about the case was withheld from all those who were not participating in it. This would be a good time to put up the walls. "I can't give out everything we know about the case, Miss Sutton, you have to understand that. I'm sorry."

She nodded, wiping at her eyes. "I do understand. I apologize, it hasn't been easy questioning whether or not she's alright. We just want her to come home." She shook her head. "I knew working at that blasted FBI would be a mistake. I _knew _it."

The rest of the conversation gave me nothing to go on. We had nothing. They knew nothing. I knew nothing. The trip had shed light on zero information that could potentially help in the investigation. If her own parents had no idea of her whereabouts, nobody else would. They had been my last hope.

An hour and a half into my ride back to the base, my phone started ringing. Zach. I sighed and picked up.

"Where the hell are you?" Was the first thing that came out of his mouth.

I arched an eyebrow, switching lanes. "Hello to you too."

"Don't screw around with me, Cammie, Sanders is pissed." He sounded frustrated. Not exactly with me, but with my rash behaviour. "_Where are you?_"

Of course her parents would call the FBI. Of course they would have flipped out at the stuff I told them. Of course they would have gone seeking answers like I had. Of course. I should have thought this through. "I needed to get away. I'm returning now."

"From where?" This time he was asking for himself, not for Sanders. This was about him worrying about my whereabouts.

"I'll be there in twenty." Was my response. Then I hung up.

At my arrival, I didn't head straight for Zach. No. I had explaining to do. It was better to face the beast now rather than avoid it. I knocked on the office door. A "come in" ushered me inside. Bishop wasn't present. It was just Sanders and me.

"Sit down, Agent Morgan." He said. His tone was devoid of emotion, which was how I knew Zach had been correct. Sanders didn't know how to deal with me anymore. My existence here was proving to be more of a nuisance than anything else. "Where were you today?" We both knew he knew the answer fully well.

"At Agent Sutton's home, sir." I answered.

"Why?"

My brain shuffled for reasons that would sound professional, but both of us were aware that my attitude had been anything but professional. I hadn't trusted the FBI enough to do their job, so I'd taken it upon my own shoulders to figure out what they wouldn't tell me. I stayed silent.

"Agent, you realize that every time you pull a stunt like this, I struggle to remember the reasons as to why we even recruited you in the first place." He said, facing me without looking away. "We are conscious of your remarkable skills and the ways in which you could aid us here, but you have made it increasingly difficult to keep in mind those characteristics when you constantly jeopardize your position here. It's almost as though you do not _want _to be working for the FBI."

"That's not-"

"Not true?" He inquired. "Then explain to me why you have been to this office more times than most others with your career in peril. It's as though you don't learn from your past mistakes. Morgan, you're not here to test your abilities. We know you can pass any terrain, any shooting range, any analysis we present you. This is a test of your character. You saw Agent Fields on the first day of training. His body is not built for a career with us, but we took a chance because he is highly skilled with hacking any firewall in a matter of minutes. You cannot change the fact that your body is not put together to perform certain tasks, which is why he had to go. You, though, you can change your character. But we don't see you trying."

I didn't dare interrupt his monologue. It could only make things worse. Everything was on the line now.

"We told you that the case wasn't yours, yet you still visited Agent Sutton's home. It was not your place to do so. Your actions were impulsive, and we need you to be able to flick that switch off. We need you to be able to suppress your personal interests such that you are able to perform your duties the way they are meant to be performed."

"I just don't understand why I wasn't assigned to Agent Sutton's case. I should be more of an asset than a detriment. I know her." I urged. He had to at least tell me why he was so persistent on not allowing me to work on the case.

Sanders eyed me for a few seconds before standing up and walking to a filing cabinet. He opened it, shuffled through a few files, then pulled out a photograph. What was he doing? He sat back down and slid the photograph over the table towards me. My heart dropped. I knew what this was. This was a test. "Look at the photograph, Agent Morgan."

I couldn't. I knew what was on that photograph. I had been told what had happened, I didn't need to see it.

"Agent Morgan."

My eyes descended to the photo, complying with his will. There was no way out of this. The first thing I noticed was the blood. It was all over the woman's shirt. Her chest had been blown open from several bullets. Five, they had told me. Over and over and over. I could practically hear the shots echoing before sinking into her flesh. Then I looked at her face. Her shocked expression. Her open mouth, as though about to call for help. She of all people had been caught off guard. Then I took in our similarities. My mother. My mother had been killed by the Circle of Cavan two years ago, only a year after my graduation.

I realized Sanders was saying my name. "Excuse me?"

He held up a glass of water. My fingers wrapped around it, but they were trembling so badly that the water spilled, drenching the photo. "I'm sorry. I'll clean it up-"

"No need to. We'll get someone to do it." He said. His tone had shifted to a knowing one. As though he had expected this reaction. "You may leave now, Agent Morgan."

I didn't leave. "You think that proved something." He tilted his head, waiting for me to elaborate. "You think because I spilled my water, somehow that explains why I can't work on Liz's case. That explains nothing. It was an accident."

"It was no accident, Agent Morgan, and we both know that." Sanders picked up the photo, tossing it into a trash can. "You had an involuntary response and you lost yourself. Even now after time has passed, you still react. How would you react if you were to discover Agent Sutton in the same position as your mother? You're too emotionally invested in this case to perform your best. We can't guarantee that you will be able to hold your own, we can't guarantee that your emotions will not interfere and prevent you from doing what needs to be done."

Everything about the argument made sense. All of it, every aspect of it. But I couldn't accept the fact that my best friend's life was probably in danger and I was expected to do nothing. Instead, I nodded and stood up. "I understand."

"You've got one more chance with me, Agent Morgan." He said with a hint of warning in his voice. "Don't let me down."

* * *

**I've been getting sweet messages from several of you, and I wanted to thank you all for being so supportive; it makes me wonder why I left in the first place. I'm overjoyed you've enjoyed this story so far.**

**REVIEW!**

**-_Ivoryyy._**


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